Laziness
by Elina
Summary: "Things you leave undone today may never be done again." Josh - 3rd in the Seven Deadly Sins - series


****

A/N: Again, no beta here. Which can be noticed: I went through the story after posting it and found a note (I make notes for myself to where things need to be changed). I'm going to get this betaed some time in the future and correct the errors, so no use shouting at me about them. 

****

Summary: Josh - 3rd in the 'Seven deadly sins'-series

****

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, I don't get paid for this. The names for the side-characters are just taken from the wind, they're not supposed to refer to anyone. Don't sue me. Oh, actually Mary Dawson's mine, all mine. Almost forgot about her…

****

Seven deadly sins - Laziness

---------------------------------------

Things you leave undone today,

may never be done again.

---------------------------------------

It was a completely normal Friday.

Just that it wasn't.

I stared at the suitcase sitting on my office's sofa. A normal, brown weekend suitcase. What's so bloody wrong with it then? Let me tell you what: it's purpose. Don't you just hate the weekend bags, too? I mean, they're never the right size, have you noticed? Either they're too small to even fit your _one_ T-shirt or they're so big you still have 3/4 empty when you're done packing, and still, either way, they're always too big to carry around easily. They're always in your feet or otherwise in your way. Just for the record, mine is the type that _looks_ big enough to storage a horse but is still small enough to be carried around easily. That is what it looks like _outside_. Then you use it.

Weekend bags are the things I hate the most about short period travelling. As a good second there comes the little shampoo packages there are in the bathrooms, they're really annoying, but let's not go there.

But the purpose of this particular weekend suitcase? Richmond.

I've never been to Richmond. Don't know if I'd care to. Nothing wrong with the city, it's just... This is not the time. It's been a long week. But Amy had arranged this weekend-thing. For us, alone. She'd booked a hotel room for the weekend and made a dinner reservation for tonight and planned the whole thing. It could be fun, I'm not saying that. I'd use some time off. It's just that she only announced it last night, said it was a surprise. So I guess I'm going. It will be nice. I'm sure it will. I haven't relaxed properly since I can't remember when, so I'm looking forward to it. It will be nice to spend some alone time with the woman I'm with, some quiet time of our own without work and this city disturbing us all the time. I'm just... disturbed about it.

By the way, I had to beg for a Saturday off. I don't like begging, but when there's the choice to make whether I want to be slaughtered by Leo or by Amy, then... Well, I'm not dating _Leo_.

I like Amy. Of course I like Amy, I wouldn't be dating her if I didn't. I'm just not sure we're ready for this. I mean, there's the code, right? The dating code, you know what I mean, right? First you have few dinner dates, maybe a movie or something like that, once or twice a week. Then you start seeing each other more often, have lunches from time to time, possibly even see each other twice a day some days. Then you spent the night together. Somewhere after that you meet each other's friend, see each other even more often. Eventually she starts to criticize your wardrobe. Next you find her toothbrush from your bathroom. After the toothbrush there comes the nickers in your drawer, and maybe after _that_ you get away for the weekend. Start expecting her parents to 'accidentally' stop by.

I don't even know yet if she _has _any friends.

I'm not even sure if we'll ever get to the toothbrush. I don't mean because we skipped it or something, but because... well, it's just a gut feeling. Yeah, I know I'm a bastard to say that, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm not just with her for fun, I _do_ like her, I like her a lot, but when I think ahead ten years from now... You know what I'm saying?

But, right now, at this moment, today, I'm going to Richmond, no matter how soon I think it is for us or how freaked out this thing gets me, because, well, I'm a man and I'm afraid that next she's going to come to me and say that she wants a baby or something like that. Rationally thinking, though, I'm pretty sure she won't do that, she's not exactly the maternal type, at least not in this point of her life. 

This will be good. The weekend will be good, and I'll come to work Monday morning relaxed and happy, I'm sure. Two days of not thinking about work in anyway, that'll be heaven.

But, God, I _hate_ weekend bags.

There was a knock at the door. "Yeah?"

The words had barely gotten out of my mouth as he was already in. They never bother to wait for a certain answer; they always think that just because they knock, they're allowed to march in. What if I was here with somebody? Like having an important meeting, that is. "Listen, there's been some trouble with Congressman Charle..." He stopped and knit his brow, staring at the sofa. Oh for God's sake... "What is that?" 

"A sofa," I answered smart-assly, but he didn't notice my tone of voice, or he just ignored it.

"No, _that_, on the sofa."

I looked at the direction of his pointed finger. "_That_ is a weekend bag."

"Oh." He looked confused. Suddenly, a realizing spark lit in his eyes. "_Oh_. Where are you going?"

"To Richmond." He had a knowing smile on his face. "With Amy."

The smile faded. "Oh."

It's funny how many different kinds of 'ohs' there are. "What do you mean 'oh'?"

"Nothing."

"Sam..." 

"Nothing! It's nice that you're taking Amy." I didn't say anything. "Does Donna know?"

He said that strangely. No, I haven't told her _yet_, but of course I _will_ tell her, eventually, I have to tell her. She's my assistant. "Which? That I'm going to Richmond or that --" This is ridiculous. "-- I'm going with Amy?"

He went all awkward. "Um... Well..."

"Who'd you think I was going with? The Queen of England?"

"What?"

"You made a face. When I told you it was Amy. You know I'm dating her, so who did you think I was going with?"

"I didn't make a face!"

"Sam!"

"OK, OK! I hate her! She's a harp!" Finally he got it out! That must've taken a long time and a lot of energy to keep it in. "I'm sorry, but she's horrible, she doesn't suit you at all. No offence." Yeah, right.

"Well, I'm seeing her and we're going to Richmond, no use to sob about it." God, I wish they'd all just mind their own business, Sam, Toby, CJ, Donna, all of them. If they're not complaining about my living habits or fussing about my health, they're meddling into my relationships. Try it, it's annoying.

"What about tomorrow, then?" he remarked.

"What about it?"

"Isn't there something like, you know, work?"

"I've fixed that. By the way, you're taking Willsberg."

"_WHAT_?" His voice rose at least five octaves.

"Tomorrow, ten o'clock."

"I'm busy," he remarked hastily.

"No, you're not, I checked with Bonnie."

"But Josh, he'll take me golfing!"

"Yes, he will."

"Josh, he'll take me _golfing_!"

"That's why Toby wouldn't do it."

"Josh..."

"Sam."

"Josh!"

"Yes, that's the name my mother gave me. You'll go golfing with him, because that was the only appointment we could make with him, and you'll do it smiling happily and with enthusiasm. We need him to do this education thing. A sunny day on the yard, swinging a bit of club, relaxing, that doesn't sound like an awful Saturday plan to me."

He sat down, rubbing his temples and looking miserable. He has a phobia about golf. Well, actually, about Willsberg _and_ golf. You see, every Saturday Willsberg spends the morning golfing and meeting people at the same time. Last time, the first and the most painful, when Sam had a 'golfmeeting' with him, Sam drove the golf cart into the water obstacle and hit Willsberg's assistant with a golf club. You see why he doesn't like golf? Besides, I don't think they've met after that. Oh, no, I'm wrong there, they did meet in last years Independence Day party. Sam hid from him for the rest of the evening. I haven't made up my mind whether that was pathetic or just very, very stupid.

"Can't CJ do it?"

"She's the press secretary, it's not exactly her line of job."

"Josh..."

"Stop whining, Sam. You'll have to meet him sooner or later."

"Not if I try really hard."

"Sam, he won't probably even remember the last meeting. It was over a year ago."

"I whacked his assistant with a club."

"Just a little bump."

"I hit him on the head."

Ow. I didn't know _that_. "I'm sure he won't remember that." Wouldn't count on it, though.

He stared at me with an arched eyebrow. There was another knock at the door. Am I popular today or what?

It was Donna. "Congressman Charleston for you, Josh, on line one."

"Yeah, thanks," I nodded at her as I picked up the phone. Then I remembered. "Oh, Sam, what was it about Charleston?"

"You know what he said to Mary Dawson?"

"That women's rights organization's leader?"

"Yeah, that's her. Charleston said to her that women should stop working and stay at home giving birth and taking care of the house. She's planning to butcher."

"Butcher?"

"She's going to speak up her mind in national television. She's going to get Bartlet involved. You know how it would look."

"Yeah. I'll handle it." I turned back to the phone. "Uhu... Yeah, I'll hold." Sam made some gestures that apparently were meant to say 'see you later'. I waved at him to go away.

"Hello? Good morning, Congressman. Listen, about Mary Dawson..."

***

She has stopped calling me at the mornings. Even though I never liked waking up in the sound of the phone ringing, no matter how much I liked, loved, to hear her voice first thing in the morning, I missed her calls. I have to keep buying new alarm clocks because of these little 'accidents' I have with them constantly. The accidents usually involve a wall and a loud 'bang'-noise.

I don't know when it had happened. I can't remember. First she just 'forgot' to call now and then, and after awhile she only called once or twice a week. After that, eventually, she stopped calling completely. Slowly, smoothly, painlessly.

We're drifting apart, you know. We don't do what we used to anymore, we don't talk to each other, we don't joke, we don't see each other except in work. Sometimes I think we're literally looking through each other. Philosophical, huh? Not so much, more like the truth. And I really miss her. I haven't heard her laughter for ages, I mean the real, generous, spontaneous Donna-laughter. Amy doesn't laugh that way, no one does.

The worst isn't that we don't talk, that we keep avoiding each other, or that our conversations don't mean anything anymore. The worst is that we're pretending that it's not happening.

And here she is, standing right in front of my desk. I think she has been standing there for some time now. I'm not sure how long. She's going on about that… um… thing she's going on about. She's full of expressions, gestures, poses, seven thousand different faces, moving, changing. She smiles, gives a little half-sided smile as she remarks something she finds funny. And then there's the wrinkle of her brow, so familiar to me, the wrinkle that I noticed the first day I met her. It has always amazed me how someone can wear so many faces, all of them real. Just like now, her eyes sparkling as she explains, her lips moving, her hands speaking... 

Her voice broke through my thoughts as I realized that she was asking something. "Blue or red?" 

My head jerked up. "What?"

She stared at me from the doorway with her arms folded on her chest. Her eyebrow was raised in an annoyed way. Oh shit, I should've been listening to that. She took a deep breath as if trying to avert herself from yelling at me.

"I said," she started slowly -- actually, she was talking to me like a was four-years-old, which I didn't like --, "which napkins, blue or red?"

Napkins? "For what?"

If I imagined hard enough, I could almost see actual smoke coming out from her ears. She moaned desperately. "Josh!" she exclaimed. I don't know what it is, but I just love it when she gets mad. Well, not 'she wants to rip my head off'-mad, but otherwise. It's cute. Trust me. Like now when she… Oh. I'm doing that not-listening-stuff again. "The lunch! President's lunch! Tomorrow, remember?"

President? Lunch... Come on, work with me here, brains... The President… The Ireland and UK ambassadors... "Oh, that."

"Yes, that." You know, when she gets annoyed, her nose wrinkles in this... way that somehow reminds me of my neighbor's dog. In the good way, that is. When I was a kid, you see, there used to be this old black lablador owned by the neighbors living next door to us, and I used to --. "Well?"

Oh, I was supposed to say something there... What were we talking about again? Lunch? _Oh, for fuck's sake, Josh, get your head together!_ _What's wrong with you today?_ Lunch, right? Um... "Well what?" I tried to look as innocent as ever, hoping that she won't bite my head off. She gave me a murderous look. I have to start paying more attention to what she's saying. As she waved the two sample napkins in the air, I finally remembered. "Oh... um..." _Think, Josh, think!_ "Aren't they both a bit... partial?" What? "I mean, they are both colors of the... um... UK flag." What?! _Aren't you a rocket scientist today, buddy._ Oh, shut up.

"They're napkins, Josh! No one's going to search for hidden agendas from _napkins_!" she yelped. Starting to think, she's _not_ so cute after all when she's pissed off. I saw Bonnie giving us a weird look from behind Donna as she passed by. And, before you say anything, no, I'm not deliberately trying to annoy her.

"Well, what about something neutral like white?" I tried to recommend. 

"I don't have white napkins," she whined. 

"Well, what do you want me to say then?"

"I just wanted your opinion!"

"On napkins?"

"Yes! You said you would help me!" Did I? Oh, yeah, I _did_.

"I was lying."

"But, Josh..."

This is getting ridiculous. "Donna, I don't know a single little thing about napkins or plates or... or matching food!" I cried out irritably. I really have better things to do than worry about _napkins_. At least I _should_ have. "I know I promised to help you, but can't we do this later? I have work to do, you know!"

"No you don't. I'm your assistant, remember?" There was a bit of mockery in her voice.

Oh my God... I pressed my head against my hands and moaned, OK, more like whined: "Just go away, Donna." I probably sounded as miserable to her ears as I did to mine.

"But I can't go yet, there's still the tablecloth to pick up and the..."

"Out!"

Did she just click her heals together? I rose my head from my hand and glared at her. She knows I hate it when she does that so when I saw her smirking at me before leaving I knew that I hadn't been imagining it.

I watched her retreating figure. Then suddenly it hit me: it's still there. When she had turned to leave, there it was. This little spark in her eyes that told me that she was playing around with me. A grin lit up my face. The bantering, joking, teasing, us, it's still there.

It's definitely still there.

***

"Mrs. Dawson, President Bartlet isn't the same person as Congressman Charleston."

"Really? Are you sure about that?"

"Mrs. Dawson…"

"All the way during this administration you have kept covering Charleston's back. On economic issues, he's there. On education, he's there. It seems to me that President Bartlet doesn't have an opinion before he's had a talk with Charleston! How do you even consider that I wouldn't think that he stands behind this, too?"

"Mr. President's previous decisions are completely irrelevant in this issue. Congressman Charleston is a very trustworthy, reliable, respected, experienced member of our party, but…"

"He's nothing but an arrogant chauvinist."

"He's experienced. He knows his way through politics."

"And President Bartlet doesn't?"

"I wasn't saying that."

"So, President Bartlet just _happens_ to have the same opinions as Charleston?"

"Yes! They agree on lot of things, but they also _disagree_ on lot of things. I think you've failed to notice that."

"Like I failed to notice the way they stood side by side smiling to the photographers like best buddies a week ago? Or the way he was a key card in your first campaign? Or how your President was behind him hundred percent in the tax rating issue? 'Women should stop working and stay at home giving birth and taking care of the house'? This was _your_ guy talking!"

"May I remark that he's your President too, Mary."

"And when did I give you the permission to call me Mary, _Mr. _Lyman?"

I turned my eyes to the ceiling, rolling my chair around to face the window, and sighed. This phone call has gone far enough. I can't believe that I'm even having this conversation in the first place. It seemed so useless and obvious to me that I couldn't imagine somebody being so pigheaded about it. And my ear's starting to get numb from pressing the phone against it. I rubbed my eyes tiredly. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Dawson. I didn't mean to be rude. But if you are implying that this administration is a some kind of a Charleston's puppet --"

"I _am _implying that."

"You're wrong."

"The farming support last year, do you want to talk about that? Where was _our_ President then? Right behind Charleston."

"How about child welfare and health benefits, or financing schools? Where was our President _then_? Let me tell you: opposite Charleston, _there_ was our President then. Do I even have to mention supporting the equalization of the pay-rates between male-dominated and female-dominated jobs, Mrs. Dawson?"

"That is not --"

"Is not what? Relevant? He is not _our guy_, Charleston isn't _ours_. He's one of our party, yes, the President and him share a lot of in common, yes, they have a long history together, yes, but he is not _our guy_, and he is not the President! President Bartlet does not stand behind everything that Congressman Charleston says or does, they are both only responsible for their _own_ political decisions! If you'd done your background check properly, you'd know that and we wouldn't be having this _absurd_ conversation!" She didn't say anything, so I sighed, again, and continued: "Mrs. Dawson, do you really think that going on a national television to hack President Bartlet's head off for something that somebody else said is going to solve all the problems? Especially when the President doesn't have _anything_ to do with the matter?"

"No."

"Then don't do it. Don't get him involved in this, because he's not." 

I heard her inhaling deeply on the other end off the line. After a small pause she said with a softer tone: "Fine. I won't pull him in. But I'm not going to let Charleston get away with this."

"And that is definitely not my problem."

She laughed a bit. "I'll make him fry on that show, you can bet on that."

"Be my guest," I smiled to the phone. After a quick goodbye I whirled my chair back to face the desk and hung up.

A huge grin invaded my face. I did it again.

I'm da man. 

Who could possibly turn the head of a pig-headed, slightly-paranoid feminist? Josh Lyman. That's me. It took long, it was a long stressful battle, but I pulled the right strings, took the right curves and there she lay on the ground, defeated. I'm da man! I have to tell Sam about this, that everything's taken care of. 

I paced out of my office and headed towards the Communications. As I passed Donna's desk, I automatically glanced her way. She was bent over her desk, leaning her head in her hands and staring at the pieces of papers lying in front of her on the desk. I smiled. I didn't even have to guess what she was doing, I knew it. Lunch. Okay, I know I promised to help her, but I was in momentary loss of sanity. What do I know about preparing formal lunches? Trust me, she's better of without me. But, hey, no one forced her to do it. Well, in theory. In practice, if the President asks you to do a favor for him, you don't say 'excuse me, sir, but my cat needs to fed, so maybe another time'. But my point is that I never asked her to do it and she _could've_ said no, the President isn't that cruel, though he only gave her a weeks notice. Looking at that, I think that she's doing fine.

Just then I saw Sam from the side of my eye, standing in the hallway just a few foot away. As he noticed me coming, he rose his eyebrow at me as a speechless question. 

I grinned. "I'm a rocket!"

"A what?" he asked in a maze.

"Rocket," I replied as I stopped in front of him with a victorious look on my face. "Mary Dawson is an unbelievably stubborn woman, but I cracked her. She's not going to pull him in."

"She's not?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"Oh. Good."

I frowned. 'Oh'? 'Good'? That's all he's going to say. Mary Dawson isn't an easy nut to crack, she has a lot of political power and she's respected amongst all the parties, when she says something, it's listened. So managing to get her on our side with this is not 'good', it's damn great! "Sam?" I asked suspiciously. "Are you OK?"

"Huh?"

"You're acting weirdly. I just told you that we're not going to get slaughtered by one of the most respected non-political persons in Washington on live TV, and you say 'oh'. What is it with you and 'ohs' nowadays?"

He didn't say anything at first but then turned his miserable face at me. "My flown has dried out."

"What?"

"My… I can't write!"

"You can't write?"

"I can't write."

"Um… How come?"

"How come? I don't know. If I'd know I wouldn't be standing here, would I? I just stare at the screen and nothing comes out of my head. There's literally nothing going on up there!"

"And that's news?" I smirked at him. 

He gave me a vicious look. "Josh, --"

He didn't have a change to continue as our attentions were distracted by angry voices coming from further along the hallway. They were muffled and I couldn't separate the words before I saw CJ walking, storming actually around the corner followed by Toby. He picked up a file from the nearest table as he hurried to catch her, and waved it mockingly in front of her face when she stopped in front of Bonnie's desk. 

"You see this, CJ? This is called 'a memo'."

She gave him a killer look and lifted her clenched hand on the level of his eyes. "You see this, Toby? _This_ is called 'a fist'!" she replied with equal sarcasm and a low threatening voice.

After that she turned around on her heels and left Toby steaming with anger. He slammed the file on the desk furiously and stormed out of my sight. After a second or two I heard a bang that I imagined was the door of his office. A silence fell into the corridor after the echo of the bang faded.

"Um…. Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You think that we should get the SWAT team ready just incase they get…"

"That would be a good idea. Do you think they do private jobs?"

"No, but it would be useful."

"Or maybe we should just stay out of it."

"Yeah. We should."

I shook my head and turned my gaze back from the now empty corridor to Sam. He just shrugged at me.

***

I was going through the filing cabinet, section N-M, for the twentieth time, looking for the file on Military Funding. It just wasn't there. I cursed, again, for the twentieth time, and started again from the mark that said M. God, I hate filing systems.

A gentle knock from the doorway got my attention, and I glanced briefly over my shoulder just to see Donna leaning against the doorframe.

"Hey," I said to her absent-mindedly and returned to my search. 

"Hey," she answered. She didn't say anything, just watched me. 

I cursed again as my hand found yet another wrong file.

"Have you seen the Military Funding File?"

"It's under M. Like in 'Military'."

"It's not under M like 'Military'."

I heard her sighing deeply and closing the door before walking to me. She pushed me aside, flipped a couple of files aside and pulled a brown one out. She handed it to me, trying to hold back a little smile that curved her lips. "Here."

"It wasn't there when I looked," I protested as I took it with a glare at her smirk.

"Oh, I bet it wasn't." 

I muttered something incomprehensive, brushing the subject aside and turning away from her. It wasn't there when I looked, I swear. 

As I walked to the desk, browsing the file as I did so, I heard Donna following me. Or not such as 'heard', more like 'felt'. I could feel her eyes on my back. I stopped moving in front of my desk and waited. She has something to say, I know it, it's just a matter of time when she's going say it. I turned the next page and tried to focus on the numbers, but I couldn't concentrate. Not with her eyes burning the back of my head. 

"Why didn't you tell me about Richmond?" she whispered, at last. Her voice was soft, low. She wasn't angry at me but still the tone of her voice made me shiver with guilt. 

My head whirled around to look at her. She had moved to stand right behind my back and now her eyes were staring at mine demandingly. I gulped. I should've told her, I know I should've. "Um… Who told you about it?" I sighed with an yielding tone as I finally managed to get my mouth open under her piercing gaze. She'd be ecstatic to know that she has such a power over me.

"Sam."

I grunted, rolling my eyes. "Should've known…" I muttered.

"I don't understand you," she sighed disappointed. "You should've told me, Josh. I could've made arrangements, clear out your schedule, done my job. Instead you just decide that you won't tell me. For what?" 

She's hurt. I hated that.

"I was planning to tell you."

"Really? When exactly were you going to say something? When I was on my way out to leave home?"

"No. I would've told you eventually."

She just stared at me. "Eventually?" she whispered and looked at me tiredly. Tired with me, that is. "Did you think that I'd fall apart and chain myself onto your leg crying 'oh, please, the man of my life, please don't go'? You really have an ego bigger than a mountain."

"I just thought… I didn't want to make you feel…"

"Patronized? You can take off your kid gloves with me, Josh. I'm not one of your fluff-headed ex-girlfriends."

I couldn't help but to smile. That's my Donna, so straight-forward that weaker would choke in their astonishment. "I know that, Donna," I whispered with a soft, apologizing voice and looked at her, holding her eyes with mine. "It's just that I… I don't know why I didn't say anything. I guess it was my ego kicking in." I send her a small, one-sided smile as I stepped closer to her. When I stopped in front of her, she was just inches from me. I smiled at her and lifted my hand to brush her cheek softly with my fingers. "I'm sorry. I've been a real jerk."

She rose her eyebrows at me surprised. "Am I hearing right? Josh Lyman is willing to admit that he's been a jerk? Oh my God, is the sky falling down?"

"Donna, please," I grinned. "I'm trying to be nice here, but if you prefer it otherwise then…" 

"No, no, this is fine by me." Finally, she smiled. Her smile was so sincere. That's a smile only my Donna can give.

I didn't say anything, just looked at her, smiling at her the same way as she did. She looked so beautiful right there and then with the sunlight, streaming through the window, playing on her hair and her eyes. I really don't understand how she always ends up with those idiots like Dr. Freeride. She doesn't deserve them. 

I glanced down and slowly wrapped my fingers around her small hand. I needed to touch her to assure her, to make her understand what I couldn't form into words. Her hand felt so warm under mine. I looked up again and was faced by her eyes still smiling at me. "So, am I forgiven?" 

She smiled warmer nodding shortly. Then, for no apparent reason, she leant slightly closer and landed her lips on the side of my mouth, just barely not on my lips, and gave me a small kiss. You couldn't really call it _a kiss_, but still, its impact was no milder. I froze. She leant back, but didn't move fully away. She remained posited so near to me that our bodies were only a couple of inches away from touching each other. 

I should've said something. 

She should've said something. 

Neither of us did.

Her eyes widened as if she'd just realized that she'd done something stupid. She was standing too close to me. She was standing _way_ too close to me. All kinds of thought invaded my mind as I just stared at her blue eyes unable to say or do anything. Concentrate here, Josh, concentrate, goddamnit...

I could feel her warm breath on my face, caressing my skin, I could smell her hair through the delicate scent of her perfume. If I'd just lean on a bit I could... No! Bad Josh! I gave myself a mental slap on the wrist and tried to think about something else, like Amy, and when it didn't work I tried to think about some very non-exciting things that are out there like carbon and envelopes and transistors and Margaret Thatcher. I told myself a thousand times that this is Donna here, my assistant Donna, but it wouldn't go away, the electricity just wouldn't go away. It wouldn't go away because she was too close and her eyes were looking too deeply into mine and they were too blue and too damn beautiful. It disturbed me but I couldn't make it stop. I couldn't help it; it was as if I'd been drawn by a magnet that some may call Donnatella Moss's eyes. Her lips cracker a bit, the warmth of her body was almost glowing out of her, and, slowly, almost unnoticeably, I leant closer, just a little bit… closer… 

Have you ever had that moment when you're absolutely sure the world will explode if you start breathing?

I have.

The sound of the door swinging open cut the air and the silence. "Josh!" My entire body literally jumped as CJ suddenly, out of nowhere, appeared in the doorway calling my name. I gasped a breath that I'd unconsciously been holding and jumped apart from Donna, cursing the fact that CJ almost gave me a heart attack in my mind. "Have you... oh... um… I'm sorry," CJ stammered as she peeked in. All kinds of emotions flew over her face; confusion, apology, realization and things like that. Only then I realized what we must've looked like. And now she's thinking of something that she shouldn't be thinking about this _completely_ innocent situation. Donna, as if she'd just gotten through her shock of CJ's sudden appearance, shook my hand off and stepped back. She turned to my desk as if she was looking something from there. "I... um... Am I interrupting something?" There was a little stress on the word 'something'.

I opened my mouth to stammer something but Donna beat me to it. "No, not at all. We were just going through some stuff, but it can wait." She was talking too fast to sound casual and normal. She smiled a fake smile. I could see doubt on CJ's eyes. She was glaring at me in a way that told me that she wasn't believing a word she was saying. "You just... um... do what you do. I'll talk to you later about the lunch, Josh. Bye." With this incredibly clumsy and stupid-sounding excuse she was out of the door before I could even realize that anything had happened. 

As the door closed, an awkward silence fell into the room. 

CJ glared at me. Her arms folded on her chest and she shifted her weight on her left foot.

The silence grew deeper and choking.

I leant against the edge of the desk as casually as I could, which was impossible under her piercing eyes, and tried to imitate the way she'd folded her hands. I tried to lift my eyes at hers, but it just wouldn't happen. I gulped.

You know that stupid saying about silence being so thick you could cut it with a knife? It never made sense to me before now.

She stared at me with her eyes narrowed with suspicion. I know what she's thinking but there's nothing to think about. Nothing happened. But she's still thinking so.

Still, not a word was breathed. 

She can think what ever she wants but still it wouldn't change the fact that _nothing_ just happened. 

__

Finally she opened her mouth. "Josh?" she started slowly. Her voice was frighteningly expressionless. "What have you done?"

I shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the desk. "What do you mean?"

"What was that --," she made gestures towards the door which Donna had just walked out of, "all about? Remember, I'm your first call, always."

"CJ…"

"I'm not stupid. Nor blind."

I grunted and started playing with something on my desk, avoiding her look. "CJ, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me. I'm not very keen on Amy, Josh, but I do understand the value of a relationship, the commitment it involves. So, for the sake of the sisterhood, if you're cheating on Amy, no matter who with, I will kick your ass so hard your nose bleeds."

I chuckled a bit bitterly. "CJ, really, where do you get these things from?"

"Are you sleeping with Donna?"

My heart just missed a beat.

"What?" I whimpered as my head jerked up.

"I'm your first call, Josh. You're both friends of mine and I wouldn't want this turning into some fiasco."

"Wha -- This? CJ -- We -- I am _not_ sleeping with Donna!!"

"Then would you be so kind and explain why it seemed like you were just about to have sex with her on the desk when I walked in?"

I blushed. Utterly. I felt my neck going all red, not to mention my ears. She arched an eyebrow at me knowingly. "Nothing was 'going on' here," I stated. I sounded like a four-year-old who's trying to convince that he didn't raid the cookie-jar. 

"Like nothing has been going on for the past four years?"

I think I went even redder, if possible. "CJ, you have been reading too much sobby-novels. Your imagination is running wild. Maybe you're the one here who needs a good --" Her devious glance stopped me from finishing that sentence.

"Oh, really? If I'm just imagining things, then what important subject were you two discussing about? Import laws?" 

"The meaning of life. We finally solved it. CJ," I moaned, "Does it really matter what we were talking about? _Nothing_ is going on between me and Donna!"

She didn't say anything.

"You have spend too much time with Sam. Donna's my assistant, I'm her boss. There's a line."

She nodded slowly and said, stressing each word: "Yes, there is."

"I'm not intending to cross that line."

"Not many do."

"For crying out loud, CJ…" I grunted annoyed. "We're friends, Donna and I! Can't a man and a woman be friends without everyone suspecting that they're sleeping together?!" 

"There was nothing friendly with what I saw."

I stared at her. She returned my look calmly. She was dead serious. Well, so am I. Nothing is going on. "What just..." I started and stopped again to gather my thoughts. What did just happen? I don't know. That's the problem. I sighed. "CJ, what just happened was... A mistake. I don't know... It's been a long day and a long week, and we're close. There might have been something --" She arched an eyebrow at me. "-- happening there when you walked in, but I wouldn't take it too seriously if I were you."

She didn't say anything.

"We touch. That's us. We touch. And people get it the wrong way because --"

"How do you see Donna?" she suddenly asked me. I glanced up at her.

"What?"

"How do you see her? How do you _really_ see her? She's not just your assistant, Josh, and you know it."

With that she left, leaving me to stare at the closing door.

***

The surface of my desk cooled my forehead like a heavenly packed of ice. The air in the office had become damp and hot during these past few hours I'd spent there. Either it was the closing thunder or the thermostat has broken, but either way I was burning up. 

It didn't help that I was constantly thinking about Donna and what CJ said. 

God, I need to get the hell out of this place.

I cursed CJ in my mind. Without her I wouldn't be having these stupid thoughts. Or Sam. He just couldn't wait for me to tell her, could he? Nooooo, he just had to blurt it. I blame him for this. What ever 'this' is. It seemed like everyone in the White House has suddenly become fixated with what Donna and I are.

I rolled my head sideways so that my cheek was now leaning against the top of the desk. I think the air conditioning is broke, too. The air in this room hasn't definitely changed in days. It wouldn't be so hot here if it had.

You have no idea how fabulous a weekend in Richmond sounds right now. The sooner we leave, the better. I need to get away. This place depresses me. I glanced at the clock. An hour or so left and then I can leave with a clear conscience. 

I don't think I can take it.

This was supposed to be a completely normal Friday. I was just supposed to have a few meetings, make a few phone calls, go through a couple of files and then pack my stuff and head out to Richmond. This day was supposed to be normal. Then how come I feel like everybody's suddenly trying to shake me to a reality that doesn't even exist: a reality with Donna and I? How come I feel like I'm suddenly trapped in a little corner where everyone's poking at me with a long stick and saying that I'm doing it all wrong? Am I doing it all wrong?

No. 

I sighed and turned my forehead back against the top of the desk. No, I'm not doing it wrong. _They_ are doing it wrong. They are the ones with overactive imaginations and lack of lives of their owns. I don't know why they're picking on me, and it bugs me. All I know is that Sam is blurting stupid things and those things are constantly getting me into trouble.

I think the universe has turned against me.

As if to complete my thoughts, I heard Toby bellowing my name from the bullpen. "**_JOSH!!_**" His voice carried through the closed door as clearly as if he'd have already been inside.

My head jumped up. Oh my God, not again... I knew it. I knew it wasn't over yet.

He banged the door open and his furious, dark figure of a bulk of a man covered the doorway.

I'm gonna kill Sam.

"You stupid --"

"Toby, just calm down --"

"-- extension of your penis!! --"

"Toby --"

"-- Are you completely unable to keep you zipper up?! --"

"OK, I don't know what Sam blurted this time but --"

"-- You better treat her good, 'cause if I find out that you've made her cry, I swear, I'll make sure that you won't ever be able to --"

"TOBY!" I hollered. He finally shut up but the I'm-gonna-kill-you-look on his face wouldn't fade. I don't know what I did to deserve this, I really don't. He banged the door shut behind him and folded his arms on his chest, glaring at me. I took a deep breath before continuing. "Toby. Buddy. Listen,--"

"I'm not going to listen anything if you call me 'buddy'."

"Listen." I waited for him to stop fuming for a moment and then looked straight at his eyes. "I am _not_ sleeping with Donna."

He stared at me, his breath still heavy from yelling. Just stared. "You're not?" he finally asked suspiciously.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

I frowned. "Wha -- _Of course_ I'm sure!"

"I just thought that it's never certain with you guys. You're as stupid as Sam, even stupider sometimes if possible, so if he can _accidentally_ sleep with a prostitute, I wouldn't be at least surprised if you --"

"I'm not sleeping with her. I'm hundred percent certain about that. I think I would remember if I'd slept with her."

"Oh." He stood silently in front of my desk, rocking himself on his heels and studying my face before taking a deep breath and sighing. "Good."

"Toby," I grunted irritably, "where do you get these things? Or no, actually, don't answer I think I already know. Sam, right?"

He didn't say anything, but he really didn't have to. His eyes told me everything I needed to know.

"Yeah, I thought so." One day, I swear, I'm just going to wrap my fingers around Sam's neck and....

"So, you two aren't..." He let his voice trail off.

"Would it be so bad if we were?" I snapped at him. I mean, I don't get them. What do they think that would happen? That I'd be the worst thing that could ever happen to her? That I'd corrupt her? Or that there would be a scandal? I think I should be offended. But he just arched an eyebrow at me and I gave in. "No," I sighed, "no, were not anything."

"Josh, I'm just saying that if you would ever want to -- um -- I mean, it wouldn't be a problem but with Amy and all, and she's your assistant, and --"

"Toby, stop that. Stop being my father figure, I have Leo for that."

"I'm just saying that you'd do great together."

What? I stared at him. "Um... We.... We would?" 

He blushed. Toby blushed. That's the first time I've ever seen him doing that. He's going to hear about this forever. "Um... Yes. In some levels, um, yes."

"But in some levels no?"

"Um... No."

I grinned and leant back against the back of the chair, folding my arms on my chest. He's squirming. This is going to be so much fun. "Really? In what levels is that exactly?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Well... um..."

"You're worse than Sam!" I laughed.

He shot a murderous look at me. "No, I'm not," he insisted.

I kept laughing.

"Oh, shut up."

I grinned at him. "Toby, just go away. And tell Sam to mind his own business, will you?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"You're both the worst scandalmongers I've ever met, you know."

"Shut up," he groaned grumpily before opening the door and leaving.

As the door closed, my smile faded.

If Toby thinks that I'm sleeping with Donna, it's not going to take long before this gossip gets to Leo and the President. And after that it's not going to take long before it gets to the press. Then I'm in real trouble. And I don't even know how this all started. 

I buried my face in my hands. What did I do to deserve this? This place is going crazy. _I'm_ going crazy. The sooner I get out of here and to my relaxing weekend with Amy, the better. I just want to get out of here, can't I at least have that? 

I glanced at the clock. Fifty minutes, then I'm out.

***

"You're ready to go?"

I glanced up from the blank piece of paper in front of me, which I had been staring for the past twenty minutes, and saw Amy standing in the door way. She flashed me a little smile. "Yeah, I just..." I inhaled deeply. "I'm just going to write a little note to Donna."

"What for?"

I knit my brow. What does she mean what for? "To let her know that I'm gone."

"Oh." She nodded as if she'd understand, but I don't think she did. She never understood why Donna should now where I am all the time. She says that it's silly. "You have your things with you? Do we have to stop at your place?"

I nodded towards the small suitcase in the corner. "No. They're all in there." I turned my eyes back to the blank piece of paper sitting on the desk.

"Good. I'll just pick up my things from my place on the way, it won't take long."

I just nodded without looking at her.

I hadn't seen Donna after what happened in my office. I know I promised I'd go through with the lunch stuff with her before I leave but... I can't just wait for her to turn up. But I don't know how to put it on the paper. 

I heard Amy coughing impatiently. I glanced up again. "You're done?" 

"Um... Yeah, just a sec." 

The blank paper stared at me accusingly. It felt so wrong to just leave a blunt note. I picked the pen up and scribbled something on it. Then I looked at what I'd written.

__

Sorry, it said, _ had to hit the road before it gets too dark._ _J._

"Josh?"

I folded the paper in two, wrote her name on it and left it in the middle of the desk. I looked up at Amy and flashed a smile. "Let's go." 

I picked the suitcase from the corner and swung it on my shoulder. She smiled at me as I wrapped my arm around her waist and closed the door to my office.

Before we walked through the door that lead to the hallway, I glanced back over my shoulder at Donna's desk. It was empty. But then again, what was I expecting? 

"Everything OK, J?" I heard Amy asking.

I turned my eyes back to the corridor in front of us as the doors swung closed behind us. "Yeah."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

****

Next chapter:

Seven Deadly Sins - Envy

"What? Where is he going?" 

"Um... I'm kinda in a hurry here... if you could just pass me the file and..."

"Sam," I started with a steady, warning tone, "if you don't tell me immediately what 'oh', I'm going to tell CJ who loaded porno on her computer the other day."


End file.
